“It’s me! Hope!”
“I know.”
“Then why stick me, Ven—”
“Call me Orchid. The walls might have ears,” Venviel said.
“Why are you treating me like this, Orchid?” Hope asked. Sweat still clung to her form since the unpleasantness downstairs, it felt clammier with her life on the line. What if Venviel had chosen this splendid opportunity to enact revenge?
“How else should I treat an inquisitor? Tell me.”
“You could…” Hope became acutely aware of how they were alone in the empty library of a home dedicated to love for a night. Other members of the temple engaged in activities dedicated to the goddess. A luxurious divan, with several embroidered pillows, stood under the windows in front of them. The moon bathed her coat in its romantic light, but she would like to see Venviel covered in it too.
“I could?” Venviel held the rapier at her back, but took a step closer and rested her hand on Hope’s stomach like she planned to lead her into dance. “Tell me, inquisitor. What could I do to you?”
“Nothing,” Hope said. “I don’t want Orchid. I want my friend.”
“We’re friends?”
“Lovers?”
“Aren’t you bold, inquisitor.” Venviel slid her rapier into its scabbard, forced Hope to move backward with the hand on her stomach, and blew air against her neck. Hope smelled grass.
“It’s my duty.”
“To be bold?”
“Like you’re brave,” Hope said, reached behind her, and grabbed the top of Venviel’s mask. “You could blend in with the locals, Orchid, if you lost the mask. If someone found us, you wouldn’t arouse suspicion.”
“Do I arouse your suspicion?” Venviel kissed her on the back of the head.
“You know you have, for years, but I assumed no one could feel for a monster, so I chose not to act. I was very shy.”
“But you’re not anymore?”
“Not with you. I know you.”
The music below reverberated through the floorboards as the band picked up their tempo.
“Why do I find you in this den, then?”
“I don’t know.” Hope twisted her body, spun around in Venviel’s embrace, and turned their closeness into a hug. “I’ve not been invited before, and now I find you in one of my favourite places. A library. I’d like to think the goddess brought us together.”
“I wouldn’t.” Venviel removed her mask from her face, her long, sweaty bangs fell in front of her eyes. “But I will take you up on your offer.”
Hope slid the trembling tips of her twin tails up between Venviel’s legs. “My offer?”
“To blend in with you for a night.” Venviel grabbed her chin, kissed Hope with desperate lips, and reminded her of why Vaeri couldn’t compare. “To break your heart.”
Entangled
In the midst of fierce, endless groping, they fell on the divan. Venviel should have slit Hope’s throat when she had the chance, because seeing the inquisitor sprawled out beneath her in the moonlight filled her soul with what the goddess might have dubbed true love. Furore made no difference between love and lust.
Every word she’d previously used to describe Hope’s beauty paled in comparison to experiencing her with her tongue. She tasted, touched, and breathed in the inquisitor’s vanilla perfume. She’d not undressed yet, and already, she’d lost her mind to Hope’s dreamy eyes.
Venviel threw her mask under a bookcase, tore Hope’s coat off, and cut the rest of her clothes open like a criminal afraid to be caught in the act. She’d snuck through the mansion in search of jewelry, gold, valuables, but those could wait for another night. She’d found what she wanted to appropriate from the temple.
Once again she felt like a hunter, a thief, in her meeting with Hope, but this time she did go for the kill. She didn’t watch Hope sit in an armchair and read. She mounted her, ran her hands along exquisite curves, and smiled when Hope reciprocated the gesture by biting her lips, her skin, freeing her of her clothes, and scratching her back with nails that left marks. The twin tails teased Venviel by circling patterns on her inner thighs.
“I do believe your chest is larger than mine, Miss Amicier.” Hope smiled like only she could and ran her nails across Venviel’s breasts. “The goddess will be pleased with this offering.”
“Don’t call me that.” Venviel quivered in the wake of Hope’s treatment. “Not you, not again. You’re my equal. My love. This offering is for you, Hope. Not some asshole in the clouds.”
“A very generous offering…” Hope blinked rapidly to stop her tears from showing.
“What’s the matter?” Venviel kicked three pillows out of the divan, lay next to Hope, and brushed her nose against Hope’s cheeks to soothe her. “Should I apologize?”
“No. I…” Hope intertwined their legs, slid her tails further up Venviel’s thighs. The inquisitor teased her most sensitive spot by flicking the tips of her tails across it. “Am I your love?”
“Sure.”
“Not your lover?”
“Is there a difference?”
“According to the goddess...” Hope trailed off, allowed her tears to flow, and giggled. “You’re my love too.”
“I’ll break your heart, remember?”
“I’m ready.” Hope dug her fingers into Venviel’s hips, deep enough to repay her for the small cut in her lower back. “Are you?”
“Of cour—“
Venviel’s words died on her tongue, replaced by the loudest moan she’d heard from anyone, when Hope slid her twin tails inside. She slapped her hand over her mouth lest her scream alert everyone in the mansion to the ecstasy she discovered.
If Hope’s eyes encouraged Venviel to dream, her tails revealed a reality unknown to elves. She became an explorer, gave in, begged, begged with her hips, and rode Hope with a singular destination in mind.
Soon, she quaked, shook, and attained bliss at a peak.
Her previous lovers had been nice, pleasant, but no one had personified danger like Hope. If Venviel didn’t find someone who could bring her as swiftly to climax, she would never dare take revenge on the inquisitor. She’d become a docile pet.
To undo Hope’s unfair advantages, Venviel slid the wet tails out, pinned the inquisitor to the divan, and refused to accept further pleasure. She had a chance to bring this gorgeous creature, with its lavender skin bathed in the moon’s light, the same bliss she’d experienced. Venviel shouldn’t squander it. She had to drive Hope mad in return for the gift she’d been given.
She sucked on her neck, trailed kisses over her clavicles, and squeezed precious flesh to encourage Hope to sing. In the wake of her ministrations, Hope writhed, moaned, giggled, and requested more, more by wrapping her fingers in Venviel’s messy hair. She felt herself pulled into the inquisitor’s body by eager, powerful hands, and licked a path down a toned stomach. She broke new ground in the hunt for her lover’s highest highs.
With a golden tongue, and silver fingers, she played the inquisitor like an instrument till Hope devolved into a quivering, sweaty heap among pillows. The odd shiver surged through the woman, but she barely seemed conscious as her eyelids fluttered.
“Divine…”
“Very mortal,” Venviel said and kissed Hope’s gem. She may not have twin tails, but she had experience, talent. “And just the beginning of our night of worship.”
Hope whimpered and brought Venviel further inside by pushing her head down.
My Love
“Thalia and Corym asked me to befriend you,” Hope said, unsure if Venviel had fallen asleep on her arm or simply cherished their intimacy. “Do you think they’d be satisfied with this outcome, or…”
She hadn’t lain naked, sweaty, and spent next to anyone, ever. She’d shared Venviel’s bed, once, but this afterglow they soaked in while dawn neared couldn’t be more different. If she had to pick between the two, she preferred the current heap of their bodies. She could see Venviel’s entire figure on display next to h
er own. Most of the pillows had fallen out of the divan during their intense hours of lovemaking.
The priestesses had promised all devout followers that they would find their true loves, in this life or the next, but she’d assumed they’d talked about elves in those sermons. Not monsters or outcasts. Probably not the poor either.
Yet she’d still clung to a faith she’d not fully believed in. She’d been forced to content herself with having a roof over her head, food on her plate, and books to read. It would be difficult to be satisfied with so little again. Two nights with Venviel, Orchid Brave, was all it took to shake her foundation to its core.
“They really did that?” Venviel yawned and readjusted her position to rest her head on Hope’s chest. “Asked you to befriend me?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going above and beyond then.” Venviel smirked. “I doubt they would approve though. You, sleeping with their daughter, when they only wanted you to befriend her. Poor girl.”
“You asked for more, oh so much more. Begged, even.” Hope giggled. “My tails are drenched in you.”
“Don’t tell anyone else what they can be used for.” Venviel reached for her twin tails, patted them, and dried them on the divan. “I don’t want you becoming famous for your hidden skill.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’re my love.”
Venviel didn’t seem to think much of the expression she used, but she may as well have told Hope she loved her. The goddess made a distinction between physical affection and emotions. Anyone could technically love anyone’s body, but only a rare few, only a true love, could love someone’s soul. Everyone else ought to be referred to as lovers.
Maybe she had been placed in Venviel’s home years ago for a purpose. Maybe she’d simply stumbled on her path to true love, because of Keerla’s interference, but come closer and closer again since she’d found Venviel alive.
She didn’t care about the mission she’d been assigned. Not now, not if she could have Venviel. Orchid Brave could burn the temple down, if she wished, and Hope would merely watch it crumble like the vigilante’s partner in crime.
The door to the library creaked as someone opened it. Vaeri peeked inside, waved, and scowled at the sight of Venviel. Hope feared the priestess had warned the guards, or worse, another inquisitor, maybe even Faraine, but no one else could be heard in the corridor outside.
“Breakfast is served, inquisitor,” Vaeri said and turned to leave but paused with her hand on the handle. “I… I apologize if I was too forward, too blunt, yesterday. I’m glad you found someone to celebrate with.”
“It’s no…” Hope started, but Vaeri didn’t wait for an answer. The priestess slammed the door shut, left them alone once again.
“Especially don’t tell her about the tails,” Venviel said and planted a kiss on Hope’s bare breast. “I’d hate to compete with a priestess. I hear they’re trained in the art of seduction.”
“Keerla must have failed that class.” Hope scoffed. “Vaeri flirted with me last night, before I met you, but I don’t think anything would have come of it. I…”
Venviel perked up and suddenly seemed a lot more awake. “You didn’t tell Vaeri about the tails, did you?”
“I didn’t know they would have that effect at the time.” Hope tried to shrug, but it wasn’t easy to appear nonchalant with her arm crushed by a naked elf. “But you know me, I’m sure I would have bragged for hours if I’d known.”
“Heh.” Venviel relaxed. “You jest, but if you’d known, you might have been someone else entirely. I’ve noticed how you’ve grown in the last five years.”
“Grown?”
“Grown.” Venviel squeezed her hip.
“I suppose I’m not as starved as I once was, so I’ve put on weight.”
“Oh, no, Hope. Don’t start. Don’t develop another complex.” Venviel squeezed her harder, with both hands, and pulled her into a tired morning hug. “You’re no monster, you’re not fat. There’s a girl no one sees, past your exterior, who’s exactly like the rest of us in both good and bad. Moreover, you’re mine.”
A warm, fuzzy feeling appeared in her stomach. For the first time, she belonged.
Progeny
Venviel and Hope parted ways, eventually. Not because she wanted to let the inquisitor out of her sight, but because they couldn’t be seen together. If someone recognized Venviel, they would start asking questions they shouldn’t. Everyone must have assumed she’d died with her mother and father. She didn’t want to change that belief. She had, in fact, died and become Orchid Brave.
Still, she couldn’t think straight for hours after she’d left Hope, even though she had to remain on course to plan her revenge. If not for herself, or her parents, then at least for everyone else who suffered similar fates. She shouldn’t give up on a dream of a better Lho Allanar. A Lho Allanar which wasn’t ruled by a frivolous goddess who neglected her own worshippers.
Venviel may not have made off with a fortune after sneaking into the location of the nightly congregation, but she’d pocketed a couple of necklaces, nine rings, a silver candlestick, and a collection of ancient coins. The items would fetch a good price if she found the right buyer. If she didn’t, she’d have to pawn them to whoever could pay. Again.
She leapt through the evening air, on her way across the rooftops of Lho Allanar, and reminisced. Hope inspired her to believe she could start a new life. Not as a vigilante or a hero with a hidden identity, but as a member of society. For the first time since the horrible fire, for a single night, she’d behaved like everyone else. She didn’t think they should behave like that, not often, but she’d become normal.
After another leap, and a rough landing, Venviel noticed she’d arrived at the plaza where her family’s emporium had once provided many citizens with their supplies. Street vendors hawked their wares along rows of stalls and the large fountain in the middle, but the emporium stood somewhat isolated. People avoided it like they thought they’d attract the plague by going near the building.
Unlike the stalls, the emporium had sturdy wooden walls which inspired confidence. Thalia and Corym’s customers had known they could trust everything they bought from them, because they’d assuaged their worries before they’d even entered their business.
Venviel didn’t like to see the new cracks or the writing on the walls, even if she couldn’t make out what the scribbles said. If she rejoined society, the temple might recognize her right to inherit the emporium. She’d love to see it rebuilt and brimming with goods from far and wide.
“Your parents failed you, didn’t they?” Furore materialized behind her, on the rooftop, out of view of those below on the plaza.
“No…” Venviel glanced at the goddess. “They didn’t. You failed them.”
Furore shrugged, played with her jagged glass dagger, threw it into the air, and caught it again when it fell. “She was my failed experiment.”
“The high priestess?”
“Hope.” Furore summoned a simple chair, sat, and crossed her legs. Her silk dress shifted in a breeze from the ocean. “Hope was my failed experiment. Long ago, now, I was more ambitious back then. I had less enemies, less obstacles. I—“
“Still don’t care about you,” Venviel said to stop Furore from babbling on like she always did. The goddess couldn’t take a hint or quit talking.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t deny how she found Furore’s connection to Hope intriguing. She tried, stared at her boots, brushed dirt off her shirt, but Furore clearly knew what was on her mind, or the goddess wouldn’t have stared at her with such a repugnant smirk.
“Although…?” Furore raised an eyebrow.
Venviel sat on the edge of the roof, turned her back against the emporium. Best not to look at it longer than she had to. She’d avoided the area for a reason. “Although, if you know Hope, I have questions. She’s never told me anything about herself, her past, or family. And I… I’d like to know her. I think she’s…”
“True...” Venviel nodded hesitantly before she recalled what Furore had said. “But how is she your failed experiment? You’re not related?”
“No. We’re not.” Furore sighed, and weirdly, she seemed regretful. The goddess hadn’t struck Venviel as capable of such a range of emotion before, yet on the rooftop this evening, her expression hinted at how she carried the sky on her shoulders. And if they weren’t careful, it would crash down on them, destroy Lho Allanar.
“But?”
“Perhaps she’s not as worthless of a pursuit as I’d presumed,” Furore said. “It’s been decades since I acknowledged my mistake, but…”
“Get to the point.”
“Pray tell, Venviel, would you have a child with Hope?”
The question took her by surprise, shocked her to a degree, because of the impossibility. She opened her mouth to give the quick, obvious reply, but something caused her to hesitate. Hope caused her to hesitate. The memories they’d made. What if Hope wanted to have children one day? What if she found a man and replaced Venviel?
“How…?” She asked.
“Haven’t you heard tales about other gods getting this and that creature pregnant with each other? Everything from inanimate objects to spirits and fae. There’s some serious mixing happening in the world.“
“No, I have not heard stories about other gods.” Venviel gritted her teeth. “You’ve made everything in Lho Allanar about yourself.”
“Not entirely, I did include Fate on a corner, but fair point. It’s no great mystery, in the end. I’m a goddess. I could make it happen with my awesome power.”
Venviel hadn’t seen a single miracle performed by Furore, so she didn’t put much faith in her supposed power. However, if her involvement with Hope became more serious, and if she decided to forego revenge, maybe she would want a child one day. The future remained uncertain.
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